Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice, #1)(42)

“Does anything fuel you that way?” Vince asked.

I let out a long exhale, my heart squeezing. It felt so foolish to say the answer to that out loud. Because when I thought of what made me feel passionate, it was creating content — editing videos, getting the perfect photograph, creating presets that, in turn, create an entire vibe. I loved writing captions. I loved making something that went viral, that reached millions of people worldwide.

Right now, it was Vince Tanev and the Tampa Ospreys and hockey.

But maybe one day, it could be more.

Instead of saying any of that, I just shrugged.

Vince’s grip on me softened. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, you know?”

I nodded, but refrained from pointing out that he had it all figured out, and he was younger than me.

“What you do need,” he continued, moving to massage my neck again. “Is to relax.”

“Says the perfectionist.”

But my joke was cut short because Vince moved his hands from my neck into my hair, massaging the base of my skull.

I moaned, melting.

If his hands on my shoulders weren’t already enough to unravel me, feeling those massive fingers cradle my skull and massage my scalp was enough to make me spontaneously combust.

I couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

And in the process, my ass brushed against him, our skin connecting underwater and sparking an impossible fire.

Time stopped, Vince pausing only a moment before his hands were working again. I thought I heard him swallow, thought I heard his next breath come a bit more labored.

I didn’t pull away.

My heart thumped loud in my ears as we stayed like that, connected both with his hands in my hair and his thigh just barely brushing the bare skin of my ass. And when his hands moved down, fingertips gliding over my shoulders before disappearing under the water, I felt him grow hard behind me, his erection pressing into the small of my back.

And still, I didn’t pull away.

Those fingertips danced down the span of my arms, gliding back up before they were on my back. He touched me so softly it was almost like he wasn’t touching me at all, and yet I couldn’t let out the breath lodged in my throat.

He nuzzled the space behind my ear with the tip of his nose as his hands slid down lower, fingertips drawing a circle around the dimples at the small of my back. They found my hips next, pulling me flush against him, letting me feel what I did to him.

His breath was in my ear, louder now, more unsteady. He didn’t say a word as his fingers skated over the slim band of my thong, and then one hand pressed against my stomach as the other traveled farther up. Just the tip of one finger slipped beneath the band of my bra, and his cock twitched against my back.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

The sound was so raw, an admission and a prayer all at once, and it rumbled through me. My nipples peaked, thighs clenching together at the jolt of electricity I felt from that one little word.

His hand slid up just a fraction of an inch more, pushing my bra out of the way. I wondered if he could feel how hard my heart was pounding, if I was trembling as much as I felt like I was.

I held my breath, angling my chin toward him until I could taste his exhales. The tip of his nose ran along the back of my jaw, and just as he gently, barely cupped my breast, his tongue snaked out and licked my earlobe.

“More champagne?”

I tore away from Vince as the stewardess’s voice pierced the heavy night air. I was on the other end of the hot tub by the time her smiling face rounded the corner, and she offered a glass to Vince, who declined, before I took one and downed it.

“Unfortunately, we had to turn around to head back into the harbor. There is some weather coming in that we weren’t expecting. But you have a little more time to enjoy the hot tub, if you wish.”

As soon as she left, I climbed out of the whirlpool, not bothering to ask Vince to turn away. I just grabbed one of the towels rolled up on a chair and covered myself with it before swiping my clothes off the deck and retreating inside.

In the bathroom, I composed myself as much as I could, which was to say not much. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at my hair, wild from having Vince’s hands in it, and my eyes, rimmed with my mascara.

I was so wet I didn’t know how I was going to go commando without soaking through my slacks.

Red flags. Red flags everywhere and yet still, I burned for that man just like every other simpering puck bunny.

I was as angry at myself as I was turned on.

I still hadn’t completely caught my breath when I re-emerged on the deck, and we were already pulling into the harbor. Vince was dressed, too, his hands in his pockets as he watched me.

I had plans to stay on the opposite end of the deck from where he was, but he crossed it, sidling up next to where I was leaning over the railing and watching the city glide by.

“I like what you posted tonight,” he said, as if he didn’t just have his hard cock pressed against my back, as if he hadn’t just tasted my skin and palmed me under my bra. “The video, it was cool.”

I’d put together a mashup of the two away games, matching the explosive hits of him pummeling an opponent into the glass or stealing a pass with the beat of the music.

“Glad you like it,” I said, still a bit breathless.

“You should post a picture of us.”